When I can't figure out what is going on with other people, I think of myself as a fairy. It explains the differences—I'm delicate, I'm temperamental, I can't control my magic but I'm certainly not evil. It's just that… when I want something, I find a way to get it, and that scares people… bothers them… annoys them… I don't really know. But somehow, I tend to freak people out. Not just muggles, everyone… even the people at Hogwarts. Sometimes I freak out my own family, and god knows they aren't easy to phase. The only person I don't bother is myself, and the reactions of other people get to me, so I do bother myself… I really don't know what the point of me is. However, while I'm talking about myself, I'd have to mention that I am truly full of myself to be completely honest here. I talk loud, laugh at everything, smile too wide, cry too easily, my hair sticks up no matter what, I can't seem to stop eating… and yet, I, among other people, find myself ridiculously attractive. My eyes are big and chocolate brown, my hair is red and turns gold in the sunlight, I consider myself metabolically challenged, and I am told I would be the top student in my year if I could occasionally pay attention to what was going on around me. I guess you could call me dangerous, but I would never hurt anyone, no matter how vile they were… I just have a twitchy hand with the jinxes.
The twins are the only ones who actually understand me, besides Harry. Hermione is sweet, but sometimes she just can't see how I live with myself. On the other hand, at least she is capable of communication. I guess I have always been attracted to Harry… How could I resist? Big green eyes, moody, mysterious personality, good kisser… but all that has so little to do with it. I would have gotten over my celebrity crush on him years ago if it wasn't for our friendship. To me, he is the only permanently tolerable human on earth. Oh yes, another thing to add to my ever-expanding list of problems with myself—Everyone annoys me. I suppose living as only myself has given me unattainable expectations of everyone else. On the other foot, most people have issues with me. I can see why when I stop to watch myself… Exuberant one second, the next millisecond, out of this world and floating through a world of emerald eyes and I've grown wings and the stars are flying by me and I can't see a single disapproving face… then sudden heat snaps me painfully into the world, my potion is in flames, the eyes are on me again, and I would give anything to be somewhere else.
My family is used to me being spacey—all I get by now is a poke and sarcastic comment from one of my multitudinous brothers. All of our family has quirks; mine are more obvious than some. I guess my family is about the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. We all laugh a lot, have bright hair and brains like scorpions (fast, but kind of scuttley…), and we're all pretty good looking in our own weird way. I guess I'm pretty, a few of the guys in my year sure seem to think so… but I just think its my sense of style. I mean, who else would think to attach magenta ribbons to their robe cuffs? What other redhead can even get away with pink? I even have pink eye shadow—as long as pink isn't used in a girly context, it is my favorite color. Along with, of course, red and green, for Gryffindor and Harry's eyes.
So basically, my story started one day when I woke up and Mum was absolutely OFF her rocker about something or another, I could smell burning bacon in the kitchen, the bright shining British fog had risen for the morning, and I decided it would be a little easier to climb out my window and risk getting down the oak tree than attempting to navigate through The Burrow's family filled downstairs. In case I haven't mentioned it, my family lives in the Burrow. Make that the Weasley family, Ginny Weasley at your service. So I pulled on my dark jeans over a pair of Harry's black boxers (they're comfy!), a stripy pink and green top, black sweater, and Quidditch boots, attempted to disentangle my red hair from in front of my face, failed, gave up on dignity, and hoisted myself into my window sill (some feat, given its height of seven feet compared to my five foot five inches), and contemplated my next move. The sun was beginning send out pink and gold tentacles of light but the mist lingered on the leaves and grass, making it look sparkly and pretty… and slippery. I bit my lip and grabbed a high branch, swinging myself onto it with a squeak. I do physically risky things, but Merlin knows I'm girly about it. From there it was fairly easy to slither down the trunk, getting some damp bark under my short fingernails (but I never much cared for manicures).
I pulled my wand out of the butt pocket of my jeans (screw Moody—I'd like to see anyone with one butt cheek), conjured a fast note to Mum explaining I'd flown to London for some shopping with the girls, and concentrated on Diagon Alley. My only secret from absolutely everyone is that I have been apparating since the age of twelve. I luckily won't have to hide it much longer, since I turn 17 in a few months. I did it by accident a few times before I realized what was happening, and since then I have kept it quiet so that my opportunities remain limitless. I had time for a gleeful smirk before I swirled, squeezed, fell, and found myself staring at Tom's grinning (odd, what with the missing teeth) face.
"Morning, Tom, just off for some exploring—If mum calls, tell her I've gone for robes, could you?"
"Anything, dear… Do have a good time!"
I shot Tom a mischievous grin and skipped out of the door of the Leaky Cauldron. London was sunnier, and already the streets were bustling with muggles, mostly teenagers. As I cruised down the sidewalk, swinging my hips (I like to entertain myself) I got whistled at by a cute guy in a convertible. Woo! I decided to tone down the attitude before someone got ideas, and wondered where I would go this morning. I had already been to most of the shops in that part of town, but I had seen a park a few blocks down that looked gorgeous. I stopped for a second to check my general damage in a reflective window; as I was contemplating whether I could manage a hair straightening charm without any muggles noticing, I caught a flash of platinum blonde behind me. Normally a blonde in England isn't a major development, but there was something familiar about it… I whirled and scanned the streets for anyone I recognized, but saw nothing but a rush of cars and strangers. Pushing it from my mind, I continued down the street.
Suddenly I stepped around a corner and was faced with the image of a huge cathedral. It must have been as tall as an ordinary three story building, with a sleek silver steeple stemming from a glowing stained glass portrait of the virgin Mary holding her son. Dark stone steps cascaded down from the heavy wooden doors, and floating up the incline was a bride. She was alone, blonde, small and frail looking beneath her wafting veils. She had large pale eyes and was resolutely clutching a simple boquet of white roses. Suddenly her face glowed with emotion and she stopped, dropped her roses, and ran back down the steps. She jumped the last few, flew through the air, and landed in the waiting arms of... the maid of honor? A slim brunette in a pale blue gown wrapped her arms around the smaller girl and their lips met in a desperate kiss. The bride whirled in fear as the heavy church door slammed open, revealing a furious Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. (Could I be any more confused?) A tall and unpleasant looking man emerged behind them, distainfuly eyed the entangled girls, and stalked away past the livid parents. Narcissa flew down the steps, beginning to scream at the girl--
"You slut! Disgrace! No daughter of ours disgraces our name! Dyke! Whore, I will never look at your face again! Get out of my sight! You filth, you blood traitor! HOW COULD YOU???!" Her face was contorted as she shrieked the last words at the stubborn face of the blonde girl. A tear ran down the bride's cheek and she failed to speak as she glared into the twisted eyes of her mother. Narcissa's arm began to flex and she raised it, the bride flinching--
At that moment, a carriage screeched into the scene. The door flew open, and out launched a flushed, furious, ... Draco Malfoy?? He leapt towards the women, grabbing his mothers arm and flinging it down away from the girl. "Mother, GET OUT OF HERE!"
Narcissa quivered in fear and rage, spat on the ground at their feet, and whirled towards her husband. "We're leaving." They stalked towards the carriage, got in, and began to close the door. Lucius glanced back, paused, and said "Son?". Draco Malfoy shook his head gently, wrapping a protective arm around who must be his sister's shoulders. The carriage door slammed, and it flashed into the distance.
'Whoooooah.' I thought. 'Must be more to the Malfoy family than I knew'.
The sister, the brunette, and Draco all embraced and the sister sniffed tearfully. Suddenly she let out an elated giggle and threw her arms around the brunette's neck. They spun and hugged and kissed and laughed, and I found myself amazed that a Malfoy could look as happy as Draco did watching them. Both girls grappled Draco's hands and hugged him and then they all laughed at the bride's outfit, plucking at varius veils and lace and ribbons that poked awkwardly from her thin bodice. I suddenly noticed that I had drifted closer to this scene while being mesmerized, and realized too late as Draco lifted his head and caught my eyes. His face tensed, the smile dissapeared, and he looked like a Malfoy again. I cringed, glanced back, and gave him a slight smile, trying to indicate I was fine with anything he wanted to show me. He looked afraid for a second. His eyes darted from me to his sister, and finally he seemed to give up all pretenses and relaxed his face into a smile. He began to laugh and disentangled from the beaming girls, sidling over to me. He was dressed as a muggle, in nice dark jeans and a tight black tshirt. His blonde hair was ruffled and his eyes were glowing blue-gray, instead of their ususal cold silver. I couldn't help but giggle as he tried to give me the usual distainful look, but couldn't through his smile.
"Is that your sister?"
"Yeah..." he answered with a small smile. "She's a year younger than me, your age, her name is Violet. I guess my parents... just couldn't handle her girlfriend."
"God... did they try to make her get married?" I was astounded that even the Malfoys could be that stupidly insensitive.
"Yeah... my parents can be... I guess... Too old fashioned to live?" he suggested with a pained smirk. "I guess we won, though... Esmerelda really loves Vi."
"I can tell" I giggled, watching the girls.
"Soo... What are you doing in London? Besides exploring your muggle side, of course". Malfoy's attempt at the usual mockery failed completely after his display of sensitivity. I had never noticed how tall he was, I felt small and had to look up to talk to him. Hmm. He was grinning slightly and a piece of hair had fallen in front of his eyes. I almost reached up to fix it when I was jolted back to reality. WHAT??? I am standing in London, at a church, with Draco Malfoy, and his lesbian sister, who has just been disowned by his parents, and probably he has too, and he is treating me like a human being, and here I am thinking he is cute?
WHAT?
Then my life started to get weird.